


Following These Frayed Threads (Leading Somewhere)

by Itar94



Series: Building Neutron Stars [5]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alpha Rodney McKay, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Building Neutron Stars: The John/Rodney Arc, Canonical Character Death, M/M, McShep - Freeform, Omega John Sheppard, Original Character(s), Post Mpreg, Season/Series 02, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:12:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/922950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itar94/pseuds/Itar94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To take him away from Atlantis now would break him. It would be like trapping a bird in a cage and expect it to fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fourth story in the John/Rodney arc in the _Building Neutron Stars_ 'verse, preceded by [Longing For the Stars to End](http://archiveofourown.org/works/920024/chapters/1786468), which must be read in order to fully comprehend this story.

[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Building%20Neutron%20Stars:%20The%20John*s*Rodney%20Arc)

**Family** /ˈfæm(ə)li/  
[noun]  
 _household; people related by blood;_  
 _people with a special place_  
 _in the corner of your heart_

* * *

The infirmary is quiet in the evening, but it holds nothing of the deafening _nothingness_ of the nights in the Sanctuary. John awakes on crisp sick-bed sheets, to machinery ticking in the background and he looks around blearily, happy, confused, relieved.

 _Atlantis_.

For once, being in the infirmary doesn’t feel so bad.

Something warm is lying pushed against his knees. A head, he realizes. Rodney’s fallen asleep, his thumb resting near the place on John’s hand where an IV is attached, and his soft snores are a definitive indication of security and comfort.

Then Carson, seeing his patient is awake, approaches and John tears his eyes away from his mate. “Hey, doc.”

“How are you feeling, Colonel?”

“Good.” The exhilarating feeling of being home hasn’t quite gone away, but it’s mixing with a bit of nervousness and grief and, _he’s home,_ he’s home after four months (three hours). He’s a little ill at the thought, but swallows, quenching the feeling. He wonders how much has changed. How people will look at him. What they’ll say. If they’ll notice. “I’m … good. A bit sore though.”

“Your vitals all look fine,” the doctor reports, voice soft as not to disturb Rodney. “There’s a bit of tearing but it’ll heal in no time. Rodney, Elizabeth and I have begun putting together a birth certificate for the latest addition to our expedition.”

John can’t stop the twinge of panic rising within him as he realizes how empty his hands are, that he can’t see his daughter anywhere. But then Carson guides his gaze to the cradle, where she’s sleeping, and he slowly relaxes his fists. She’s okay. She’s safe.

They’re okay.

“Can I hold her?”

“Of course, lad. She’ll probably wake up soon and be hungry again. Don’t worry, she’s been fed with some formula, but I bet she’s missing her mom.” The doctor puts a couple of supportive pillows behind his back.

Marie feels heavier now than she did when they named her, settling nicely against his chest. Perhaps it’s because he’s not as tense, now that he’s here, cocooned in warmth. He can relax now, finally. _Let go._

“Hey there, sweetie,” John whispers. “Welcome home.”

* * *

Their daughter’s birthdate is a special case. The official papers signed by Carson Beckett say the twelfth of October 2005, Earth time, and while it’s not entirely true it is the day she _should_ have been born, calculated from the fact that she first arrives on Atlantis twenty-eight Earth-hours old.

(Using Atlantis’ clock it’s something different entirely.)

John’s birthday had managed to pass by while he was stuck in the field, and he hadn’t thought of it, hadn’t celebrated his first birthday outside Earth’s atmosphere because he’d not cared and been too distraught. And when he returns he’s still thirty-five years old according to everyone else.

He doesn’t tell Rodney because his mate and his team have enough cause to celebrate anyway now that their girl is here and he’s returned, safe and whole, at least on the outside and John is already a little overwhelmed of the clash of Atlantis, so many busy people and old voices and the familiar floors beneath his feet – it’s a bit dizzying.

Rodney will figure it out eventually.

* * *

The following few days are a bit of a blur. He’s not sure which day it is. He grows used to the twenty-five hour long cycles of day and night and the lack of birdsong quickly. The sound of the ocean and the wind upon the central tower is soothing.

(He spends countless days just staring at the water, holding the newest citizen of Atlantis close to his chest, overcome and emotional, hiding on a balcony so that nobody can see his gleaming eyes.)

Ronon is still acting a bit weird. Like he hasn’t understood really how his commander and friend has been gone for three hours and returned with a baby in his arms. Teyla doesn’t give him a wide berth, doesn’t avoid him, while many others keep walking on egg shells around him as if not knowing how to react. John is glad for her normality, even if he’s declined sparring for a while longer because he’s still drained and he’d rather spend time with his daughter. Teyla a relief in the wave of stress caused by his return to the city; he can always talk with her, sit down and share a cup of Athosian tea.

He prefers talking with Teyla way over Heightmeyer, but Elizabeth has more or less ordered him to go to the psychologist, to share what he’s been through. The doctor has never been off-world, new to the expedition, and she’s a soft-spoken stranger.

She couldn’t possibly help him to … to _process_ the event any better than Teyla or Rodney or Ronon, but even if John objects he does get _why_ Elizabeth wants him to go to the doctor’s office twice a week. She’s concerned, as a friend and as a leader taking responsibility for her people.

His men, the marines – god, how they’d _stared_ when the jumper arrived. Major Lorne had gaped, but come around eventually, after they’d talked in the mess the other day and things had been explained.

While he’d been put in the infirmary on Carson’s insistence, Lorne and Parrish and several others of the marines had visited, to congratulate him. It’s odd. He’s missed them too, John realizes. Missed the marines and the civilians on the base. His people. Of course, most of all he’s missed his team, but all the men and women in the city have a certain place in his soul.

When the soldiers appear to be awed and not disdainful of the child in his arms, he’s glad. Lorne assures him that nothing is different from before, that the chain of command is as it was a month ago, that all orders will be followed.

It’s strange to think that not even a day has passed while he was gone and yet John had imagined to be faced with – _change_. Yeah. He’d thought there’d be altered faces and reports of him missing in action, he’d expected – well, something _more_. Yet he’s relieved.

(The cup of coffee left forgotten was still standing next to the laptop in his and Rodney’s quarters when they returned.)

Nothing and everything has changed.

Rodney’s still talking in five hundred miles per hour, commenting his staff’s incompetence and whispering nonsense when he thinks no one can hear, and John automatically grabs an extra pudding in the mess for him. As they walk around the city showing their daughter her new home, Rodney’s side brushes against his own. Step by step John is getting reacquainted with the city, running a hand along the walls (just to make sure).

And when Marie wakes them in the middle of night, her lungs uniquely strong, and they can’t get enough sleep, Rodney complains mostly for the sake of complaining (he wouldn’t be Rodney otherwise) but his eyes shine with wonder.

* * *

Atlantis is as it should be.

* * *

Daedalus is to return to Earth so Rodney adds a few things to the shopping list, which he’d originally planned to add a month or so from now, but things have changed.

The Athosians are nice and all, when hearing the news, and quickly the gifts start piling up: baby clothes, toys, a wooden cradle, fabric diapers and other necessaries. But Atlantis houses nothing designed for children and even if John seems more than okay with what they’ve received from the locals, assembled together with some of the expedition personnel, Rodney misses a few things.

Questions will be raised once the list – like any other request from Atlantis – reaches the SGC but he can deal with that. He’s already got a twenty-two page long argument (it’s not _pestering,_ even if John calls it so) of why he’s right and others wrong, which he’s ready to send to any IOA member, General Landry, General O’Neill and even Samantha Carter if they as much as raise an eyebrow.

(John has read it through twice. As has Elizabeth, but whereas the leader of the expedition had stared at the message incredulously, John’s only input was that Rodney could add ‘The less a man fights, the more Wraith will feed on his soul’. Apparently it’s a Satedan proverb.)

* * *

For the first few days, he has difficulties falling asleep.

And it’s sleep-depriving and his head pounds, but to get up, awakened by his daughter’s cries, is a relief because when she’s awake he can hold her, make sure that she’s real, and that all this is not just some illusion created by his desperation.

Part of him fears that he’s having a long graphic dream. That he’s lying in a deep fever in Teer’s house back in the Sanctuary, still pretending.

* * *

For a moment, Rodney considers leaving Atlantis, taking his family with him and follow the Daedalus on its way back to Earth. Like a breather away from the bustle of the city, away from everyone’s eyes.

But John has been forced away from Atlantis for four months. When they’d come through the gate leaving P3X-GH4 behind them, hopefully forever, John’s eyes had lit up like someone had finally unlocked the chains trapping him in place. Before that, as they’d made their way from the Cloister and through the barrier, he’d looked so pale and haunted and Rodney doesn’t want to see that desolate look on his face ever again.

To take him away from Atlantis now would break him. It would be like trapping a bird in a cage and expect it to fly.

* * *

A week after his return, everyone has learned what happened and the reports have been written and filed away.

It had taken him hours to write his. To put the experience to words. To make sense of it. The technical things were not a problem, but to explain how long he’d been in the Cloister, how many times he’d tried to meditate with them and pretended, how he’d had his baby there – that’s harder.

And he cannot just … erase it. Can’t pretend it didn’t happen.

Eventually, the file will find its way back to the SGC, and they’ll realize there, at last, of the pregnancy, of the _extent_ of it, and he’ll probably be called back for a hearing. He can bet the IOA will want that. Because, technically, he’s not been off duty for over nine months, but according to Atlantis’ time that only five months, and yet he’s had a daughter in that time. That’s going to raise a few eyebrows back on Earth, where they’re so far away that they won’t _comprehend_ even when written evidence is presented to them.

* * *

Everyone on the base knows, of course. Rumours and news here spread quicker than wildfire. Eight days after his return, people he’s only spoken to briefly before approaches to congratulate, to get a glimpse of the first child of this expedition born in Pegasus. Mostly they just get to see him and Rodney bicker (Rodney still hasn’t given up on trying to meddle the answer to the Millennium equation out of him) in the man’s private lab before they're waved away.

John still hasn’t eaten in the mess yet. He takes all his meals in the lab, Marie resting in his lap, with Rodney and Teyla and Ronon joining in. They make a private sphere there, where they can hide. Where they don’t have to face the rest of the world. Carson joins them one day as well, pleasantly surprised at finding them all gathered together.

They even manage to convince Elizabeth to take a break as well for a leisure afternoon, when they watch a movie and share stories and forget about the Wraith for a little while. Everyone gets to hold Marie and greet her properly – even Ronon, whose large hands grow surprisingly tender as he holds the girl and praises her in his native tongue, explaining that it’s a tradition on Sateda. The translation is vague and sounds like pieces from a prayer, and Rodney approves all up till the mention of the words _future great warrior_.

And for the first time in weeks, John laughs, a proper sincere laugh coming from the bottom of his gut.

They’re _family_. Not just he and Rodney and their daughter, but his team and Elizabeth and Carson as well. They’re more of a family than his father and his brother has ever been. _This_ is the family he needs.

* * *

It’s good to be alive.


	2. Chapter 2

The Wraith have begun fighting amongst themselves and hopefully it will help end this war sooner, as their enemies destroy their own ships. Rodney certainly hopes so.

They might even get some proper time off soon, if this goes on, and then he and John could go someplace, show Marie around Pegasus (because this is her galaxy more than the Milky Way will ever be) and Atlantis in particular. And Rodney could go back to Earth and deal with all the paperwork, so that their daughter will have an American and a Canadian citizenship and insurances and everything else – he doubts John is that eager to go there, so he’s willing to do so alone.

Of course, was it legally possible, he’d fix her a Lantean citizenship because technically it’s her _right_ , but such words could never be put on a paper that can be read by people without clearance.

* * *

The scheduled weekly check-in with Earth is underway as John joins them in the control room one morning, Marie resting on his hip. She’s practicing spit bubbles as she looks around the room and all the busy people with wide eyes. When seeing the two approach, Rodney’s eyes lights up. He’s always giddy in her presence. (Well maybe not when she wakes them at midnight to get her diapers changed. But otherwise.)

It’s been two weeks now, and the alpha is just like John adjusting to fatherhood, but for him it’s different. He wasn’t there the last few months, didn’t see her grow in the final months in the womb; he wasn’t there at the birth. The guilt still won’t let go, even if John’s told him a hundred times that it’s okay, he’s forgiven; they never planned on the time dilation field or being separated. ( _It’s okay. It’s okay_.)

But Rodney has a difficult time believing.

The alpha has hardly let Marie out of his sight for the past fifteen days. Everyone on base is astounded how easily Rodney’s even dismissed research time in favour of her daughter and mate, but no one complains, John least of all.

* * *

The dialling sequence is nearly complete when the transmission reaches them, and Rodney skims over the words three seconds before it’s too late, managing to raise his hand and shout when Chuck’s hand is an inch above the DHD.

“STOP!”

* * *

There’s a bomb hidden somewhere in Atlantis.

They’re not quite sure how or where or by whom, and the investigation surges through the city like a shockwave.  If not for Rodney’s insight to discharge the ZPM they would’ve all been vaporized, because a program, uploaded in secret, comes to life and tries to make the Stargate form a wormhole back to Earth and only the lack of power saves their lives.

But not for long.

* * *

Two Wraith cruisers are headed right for the city.

They shouldn’t know they’re there, and even if they drop the transmitter with some debris on a beach somewhere, luring the Wraith away, they still need to cloak the city. And then the ZPM will overload, slowly, inevitably, even if it will take nearly an hour to do so.

But there is little other choice. It’s death by overload or death by a Wraith attack. Rodney favours neither.

* * *

“We need to start evacuating. Obviously we can’t use the gate to dial off-world even in this galaxy, that’s too risky, so we’ll just have to load people into jumpers. Elizabeth’s already given the order and Major Lorne’s in the bay, overseeing it –”

“Rodney,” John starts.

“I want … I don’t want you to leave, but, please, John. If – if the worst happens, then we can’t just send Marie somewhere without either of us, and I need to be here to monitor the shield and fix it. I _will_. Just. _Please_.”

And he’s right. They can’t let their daughter be orphaned.

* * *

They pack only the most necessary things and John doesn’t want to say goodbye, doesn’t want to have a final embrace now, not this soon after he’d escaped from the Sanctuary and returned home, not ever. It’s too soon. Too sudden. But they’ve faced disasters before and overcome it. A bomb is a small definite matter in comparison to all the other dangers they’ve faced, and he’s sure that Rodney will find the answer in time.

He can’t form the word _farewell_ , so instead he kisses Rodney fiercely. “Make sure I’ve got a city to return to, okay?”

“Okay.”

Even if she’s far too young to understand anything, Marie wails and cries and John can’t properly soothe her. It’s almost as if she knows and she clings to Rodney’s hand all until the radio crackles, urging Rodney to hurry to the control room immediately and he has to forcefully separate from her.

“See you later, then.”

* * *

Afterwards, Teyla tells them of how old Charin died, her heart suddenly stopping, and how the Athosians had sung even as the overload was nearly upon them - celebrating this rare event of a naturally occurred death, no feeding mark marring the old woman’s chest.

But first they beam down the Goa’uld-infested commander from the Daedalus, after several tense hours of interrogating staff from the ship and the city, resorting to torture to find answers. Without the codes to restore the failsafes, there will be no second hour.

Afterwards, John is a bit relieved he never had to witness Colonel Caldwell’s suffering, because in the reports Elizabeth writes how the man had pleaded, how he had whispered names in desperation, begged for the pain to pass. How the entity in him and his own consciousness had battled harshly and they’d nearly lost him and the city in the process.

* * *

He’s sitting in a jumper three hours from the nearest gate, still within radio range of the Daedalus, when the word comes that Atlantis is safe and sound and they may return. When he hears it and turns around to tell the passengers, a whole twenty people huddled together – Lorne has another eighteen in another jumper on their trail – whoop with joy and relief. John makes no exclamations, just holds his daughter tights and exhales.

They get to live another day, their city intact.

(He and Rodney had left the cradle in their quarters. Refusing to give up hope.)

* * *

The storm decays.

Another tempest forms on the horizon.

* * *

Once power-levels are back to normal and the jumpers back on Atlantis, they dial Earth, fulfilling the procedure without danger this time. Elizabeth gives her report and a databurst is sent through the wormhole, taking point two seconds thanks to its compression macro. But before the connection is cut, General Landry on the other side gives an order.

A recall.

_No, no – no, it can’t be._

“Look,” Rodney starts, walking up to the laptop getting the video feed so that he can be seen on the screens back on the SGC. “We can explain things from here. You don’t have to recall J- Colonel Sheppard just to have a chat.”

_“I was not speaking to you,”_ the General says. _“I need Colonel Sheppard to step through that gate right now. Members of the International Oversight Advisory are waiting in my briefing room as we speak, and they have been waiting for the hours it took for this storm to blow over. Now, step aside, Dr McKay.”_

“You can’t just -”

But Rodney gets no more chances to argue or call people morons, because John understands the general, he understands the military in ways Rodney never will because it’s never been his life. He clasps his mate’s shoulder, soothingly, murmuring for only the alpha to hear. “It’s okay.” He transfers Marie to Rodney’s arms, before turning to the camera, looking directly into it, without fear or hesitation.

“I’ll be right there, General.”

On the inside, he’s quaking.

* * *

Earth.

Being back is strange, eerie. It’s far colder in their gate room than back on Atlantis, the room bare and strict. As he arrives, the General is standing by the end of the ramp and he salutes appropriately. He wonders how much they’ve gotten to know through the news carried to them by the Daedalus. All the details were in that databurst, but they undoubtedly know _something_ given how he was ordered to step through without any warnings beforehand.

He can just pray that the meeting will be short and that the IOA will keep debating (they’re not the best at making quick decisions) and in the meantime let him go.

“General.”

“Colonel.”

He wonders how far the word has spread. They already know he’s omega, of course, and he’s pretty sure that the marines still can be muttering about it in the lower ranks; but have they realized yet that he has a daughter back on the base, waiting for him to return? Have they comprehended?

“It’s good to be back, sir,” he says as they walk out of the room, through the metal doors, and he fights every urge to look over his shoulder as he hears the gate shut down.

(Now he understands why people carry around photographs in their wallets.)

“I wish I could say you’ve returned under happy circumstances, Colonel,” the General says, surprising him a bit. He’s not that sure of Landry’s character yet, he has no grasp of him. “However the IOA beg to differ. We received some interesting reports when the Daedalus returned. Now, we do realize it may not be the full truth, given that Colonel Caldwell was under the control of the Goa’uld at the time, though we were not made aware of that until you hindered the destruction of Atlantis an hour ago.”

“Interesting, huh? I bet they liked that,” John says and the General gives a dry smile. Maybe the man isn’t so bad, after all.

They reach the spacious office under the yellow underground lights and John wishes there were windows. This is far too much like a cage.

By the table, two men and a woman in perfectly pressed black suits and white shirts are sitting, and he can smell their self-interest and dedicated _importance_ from three miles off. Two of them are beta, the last alpha, the latter not putting as much effort into his image because he mightn’t need to, his natural pheromones giving him a head-start. He doesn’t recognize any of their faces.

He can already feel a headache coming on, and he wishes he had Elizabeth’s knowledge on how to deal with these people, Teyla’s skills as a negotiator and her enormous patience, and Ronon’s intimidating shadow. Now he’s alone and unarmed, faced with a situation he’s feared for years and never known how to prepare for. Nevertheless, he straightens his back and acknowledges them with a steady, well-mannered voice.

If the worst thing happens, well, he has his side-arm and he still recalls how to reach the surface from this place. There’s got to be some F-302s hidden around here somewhere.

* * *

"They can’t send him back permanently, can they? Fuck, we’ve got to _do_ something! Elizabeth, you have to go there and convince them to let Sheppard return. He’s got me here. He’s got Marie here and they can’t just part a kid from their parent like that, she _needs_ _him_ to survive, look, she’s already hungry - and _I_ need him here, we all need him here and honestly the IOA are all morons, surely General Landry will realize that and have John sent back? They’ve _got_ to –”

While Teyla and Ronon may also be upset at this sudden parting, they aren’t nearly as vocal as Rodney, who has spent the last one and a half hours near breaking point, almost _screaming_ , and he’s even forgotten to drink his scheduled fifth cup of coffee, far too much on his mind.

They can’t do this. Can’t take John away. They’re mates and the idiots back on Earth got to realize that, that they can’t just part them and expect to get away with it. And John is the best military commander and team leader that Rodney can ever imagine and _they need him here._

_Rodney_ needs him here.

But Elizabeth is as powerless in the matter as he, as anyone else here. Colonel Caldwell is in high regard back on Earth but right now he’s stuck in the infirmary, recovering from having had a slimy bug taking over his head and he would be even less successful in putting in a word edgewise now that he can’t stand on his two own feet – Rodney isn’t even sure he would try, was he fully healthy, but the Colonel has never been quite that disdainful toward John so there’s a chance. But now it doesn’t matter, because no one listens.

All they can do is sit and wait.

“They can’t just force him away. They can’t. He’s done a hell lot more for this base and the people here with his _pinky_ than any of the IOA members could do in a _lifetime_. Do they really think I’m just going to accept –” and it goes on and on and on as the clock ticks slowly, slowly, slowly.

If they send John back to Earth, he’ll follow. He’ll quit. He’ll leave the SGC and Pegasus and everything behind. If they take John away –

* * *

He takes seat on a stiff black chair without being asked (they frown at that and he glares back), as the woman speaking takes her time in sorting through papers, her cold demeanour and blank face giving away nothing.

Then, they start questioning. At one point her eyebrow twitches. At one point John is close to grabbing the nearest sharp object and attack, but he has manners not to and they should be thankful for that.

It begins from the start. When he was nineteen and started taking suppressants and joined the Air Force under the guise of being a beta. John clenches the armrests, biting back the words he’d like to say in favour for those they have the right to hear, because this is personal, this has nothing to do with _anything_ of how he performs as a pilot, as a leader, as a commander, as a teammate. This has nothing to do with Atlantis or the safety of the base.

All this has to do with are age-old rules and the military’s traditions and the IOA’s own petty demands and fears. John thinks it’s outright stupid that they care more about that he’s omega than that he’s fully competent, has been in the field for over ten years, that he has a fucking PhD, that he’s saved lives. No, that is not in their focus. For them, all that doesn’t matter.

They all know of his black mark in Afghanistan. They all know how he shot Sumner during the first week in Pegasus (even it was too late). They all know about how they’d lost Ford, not once but twice. They all know, but they cannot fathom _why_.

He’s been locked in the room with them for nearly two hours when they ask the first thing he can confirm, about the latest news from Atlantis. The question is all wrapped up in fine words about _precautionary measures_ and _protocol requirements_ but nothing hides the fact that they’re uncomfortable and unused to the situation, and it’s a little bit like a knife is being headed his way.

The way they speak of his pregnancy and his time in the time dilation field is clinical and strict and impersonal, and they have no idea what they’re asking, what he’s gone through. Like they’re asking if it hurt getting the splinter out of his fingertip _, yes or no; if yes please grade it on a scale of ten, sorry about the itchiness._

John is briefly grateful for the talks with Teyla and even Heightmeyer, because as painful as it was then, it was a good preparation for this.

But he takes some evil satisfaction in seeing their shocked faces when he answers them, with carefully measured vagueness, that yes, he was hiding his condition and yes, he was stuck in the time dilation field and yes, you have a military commander sitting in front of your who two weeks ago gave birth to a child and Atlantis still hasn’t sunk to the depths of the ocean (can you believe).

He doesn’t tell them his daughter’s name – they’ll have it on paper soon enough anyway – because in a way it would be like letting them sully it. It’s just selfish superstition, but he stubbornly holds onto the belief anyway.

* * *

Getting out of there is the best part of the return.

General Landry greets him as he enters the control room, and he’s relieved to tell the man that the IOA has given him leave for now. They need to think, debate, they say. They always say that.

John means to ask if the General knows more, if he can or will influence their decision if they ever make one. He halts himself before he even starts.

“Begin dialling sequence,” is the order and John exhales, slowly, as Landry turns to him. “We’re sending you back to Atlantis, Colonel, but I cannot guarantee the IOA won’t be back.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The latter may not be necessary at all, but if not for the General the IOA would probably keep him locked in the bunker for the remainder of the month. Landry doesn’t respond, just tells him to take the chance and go, and John salutes before stepping through the Stargate.

* * *

 " _Incoming wormhole!”_ Chuck’s voice rings out over the control room and filters into Elizabeth’s office, where Rodney’s steadily wearing a path through the floor.

* * *

“So, what’d they say?”

“They’re going to take the matter _under advisement_.”

“Figures,” Rodney says, giving a thumbs-up to General Landry in his mind. Maybe O’Neill was involved as well, because the man, as much as he dislikes Rodney and vice versa, seems to have nothing against John and quite a lot against the IOA. “You know if they decide to send you back, I’m following. I’ve already emailed what’s-his-face, Woolsey? Yeah, that’s it - Elizabeth was gracious enough to forward the message – that if they force you away from Atlantis, I’m quitting, and that ought to make them think about it twice. Given I’m the most prominent genius (well the only genius) around to save the galaxy and everything.”

“Thanks, Rodney, but that’s not necessary. You love Atlantis. You wouldn’t leave willingly.”

Nevertheless, his heart swells while his chest contracts as the offer is made and if the emotions rushing through John’s body could take physical form they’d probably crush them both.

“What’s a ten thousand year old city got to family? Anyway,” Rodney goes on, hurriedly as if trying to hide his flushed neck but John doesn’t miss it and smiles fondly, warmth spreading from his heart and outwards, more powerful than any molecular bond. “You’re back now, we’re back, there’s nothing to worry about now, except for the usual stuff.”

“Wraith, impending death, unforeseen catastrophes, yeah. Come on, let’s see if they’re serving anything good in the mess.”


	3. Chapter 3

When Rodney decides to convert one of the larger storage rooms next to his private labs into a nursery and recreational area, he lets Teyla know of the idea, who lets her people become aware, which leads to Elizabeth also knowing and somehow he manages to engage half the personnel on base to help with carrying furniture and getting supplies.

Rodney lets it slip one night over dinner to his mate. John had thought of it to be something small and simple, that’d easily do, and therefore he’s rather taken aback when coming down to Rodney’s lab one morning to find Lorne and his team busily unpacking boxes. The scientist himself is nowhere to be seen and John can’t pinpoint him, the alpha’s scent already all over the place, leading nowhere and everywhere.

“Major,” he greets and the when men stand to salute he quickly adds, “At ease. What’s all this?”

“The Daedalus just arrived with these, sir,” Lorne responds. One of the boxes is slightly open, revealing something colourful within. There are also several items that look suspiciously Athosian, and John is astonished that Rodney’s managed to keep the scale of this a secret from him, given how much he talks.

“And what did McKay bribe you with in order to have you act as furniture movers?”

“Nothing, sir,” is the honest answer. “We’re happy to help out.”

John still has some doubts about that, but decides not the press the Major. He’d have helped out had his arms not been full of baby. The four-week-old inspects the world around her with wide eyes and a pleased expression and the marines glance at her, curious. Given that aside from the Athosians, no children have been near the city for ten thousand years and that the men still sometimes showing signs of being thrown by their CO having a kid, John is forgiving, even if he itches to get back in the gym and on the field and kick some ass. He’s sat around for too long.

“Have any of you seen McKay?”

“He left just a minute ago, sir,” one of the marines informs him. “He said he’d return in any minute with some more things beamed down from the Daedalus.”

He’s pretty sure they’re all asking themselves _Okay, so when did he hit his head?_

* * *

Rodney just gets back as the girl begins wailing and the men wince, unprepared for the strength of her usually tiny voice. John grins. “Now that just screams ‘McKay’.”

“Fine. Next time it’s your turn.”

The alpha takes the child, grimacing at the smell, ignoring his mate’s bemused expression and how the marines fail at concealing their smirks. When the scientist glares at them though they rapidly drop the smiles, offering looks of pity instead.

And things have changed, they have, but John has nothing against these changes.

(This is definitely the best base he’s ever been stationed on.)

* * *

By the time Marie is five weeks old, the trip to the mainland sounds like a good idea. The environment there is less stressful and there are several children among the Athosians that can be her future playmates. The mainland holds no sense of impending doom or constant fear, it holds none of the boundaries of Earth.

Rodney gets to bring his computer though, but John doesn’t bother to bring his copy of _War and Peace_ which he hasn’t opened for seven months and he’s forgotten so much from it that he’ll probably have to start over. Even if the mainland is less stressful, it won’t entail less hungry mouths or no uneasy cries to soothe or fewer diapers to change. Besides, he’s got plans anyway to hide away the alpha’s computer tonight and have someone watch over Marie for a couple of hours for some time alone, which they haven’t had for – well, for _weeks_ , and John feels a bit like a starving man.

* * *

It sounds like a good idea.

Then, half-way there, the jumper suddenly tilts and lights are flashing. John grabs the controls with pale hands, thinking _no no no this can’t be happening, this can’t be fucking happening_ while Rodney screams something into the radio, holding onto their daughter tightly, while the ocean nears them steadily –

“Pull up! Pull up! We’re going to crash!”

“I’m _trying,_ Rodney!”

The pods stop functioning and the HUD goes offline and then they break through the water, the whole craft shaking. Marie is screaming and John’s heart thunders as the world suddenly darkens, going blurry at the edges and, oh god, _don’t let it be_ , let them be all right, let Rodney and their little girl be unhurt –

* * *

Suddenly Jumper One disappears from the city’s scanners.

* * *

The jumper is still moving downward, the sky above swiftly vanishing.

“… Rodney?” John asks, looking to his side in panic, breaths harsh against his ribcage. His mate is sitting pressed against the back of the co-pilot seat, clinging to the girl in his arms. She’s crying. “Rodney?!”

“I’m fine,” comes the answer, shocked and uncertain, and Rodney can’t break his gaze away from the dark wide blue in front of them. “Oh god. We’re underwater.”

It’s so dark. Nothing is even _flickering_.

“I can’t get power online. Could you –”

While the alpha hurries to the back compartment to look at the crystal control panel there, John tries to soothe the infant, cooing and whispering nonsense and stroking her back, and he prays to all deities he remembers that she’s unharmed, that the initial dampeners have hindered her from getting any injuries. She’s so young and small, a jolt like that could easily have –

He swallows harshly, not wanting to finish the thought. She’s at least making noise, which has to mean something. “ _Rodney_.”

“I’m working on it. I’ll see if … There.”

Something in the ship hums quietly, and the next second the lights come back. The datapad connected to the jumper, lying discarded on one of the benches, lights up. It might provide some answers, a solution.

They’re still sinking. No jumper has ever been used underwater before, and they’re not sure how much pressure it can take, when the depths will be too much; the strain of the ocean is the complete opposite of vacuum.

John lifts his hand to his right ear. “Atlantis, this is Jumper One, please come in.” The words come out more steady and calm than his pulse. “Atlantis, this is Sheppard, please respond.”

The sound is faint, wobbly. Interference. He recognizes the voice as Radek’s. _“This is control. What’s the situation? We suddenly lost sight of you.”_

“Something’s wrong with the jumper – we’ve crashed into the ocean. We’ve lost all controls and power. I’m not sure how deep down we are or how fast we’re sinking.” He looks at Rodney, silently asking and the alpha just shakes his head darkly. “We can’t get anything other than lights and life-support back online, so we’re going to need a hand.”

He manages to sound calm, like he’s giving the order while being perfectly safe himself, but his knuckles are pale. That cannot be heard over radio.

_“We’re right on it, Colonel, just sit tight. We’re trying to determine your exact location.”_

* * *

They keep sinking.

“Rodney? How’s it coming?”

But he’s not gotten anything working. The world is slowly growing darker.

“If,” Rodney starts but John can’t, can’t say goodbye, can’t let go, can’t share a final kiss, so he shuts him up.

* * *

Then a crack appears in the windshield.

“Sheppard!”

Rodney grabs his upper arm and drags him back, shutting the hatch between the front section and the rear compartment just in time. Point five seconds after they’ve stumbled into the section, there’s the sound of something breaking and a great whoosh of water, and then, a heavy dangerous silence.

For a minute they just stand staring at each other in horror, breaths rough, heartbeats eerily similar and quick. They can’t get into radio contact with Atlantis.

“Oh god. Oh god. We’re stuck without controls, without communications, we’re sinking, we’re going to _die_ –”

The alpha’s agitation is picked up by their daughter, who’s wailing again and John curses; he’d just managed to calm her down.

“Rodney. Rodney! _Calm down._ Breathe. Panicking won’t help anyone. You have to calm down.”

“Calm down how?! We’re _stuck_! I hate small dark spaces and especially underwater, and we have no propulsion, we’re got, what, a few hours of oxygen left before life-support could fail and we can’t radio anyone so they won’t know our position to send a rescue –”

The alpha’s voice reaches a crescendo, the quiet sick hum of the jumper mixing with his terrified words and the girl’s cries and something inside John snaps, overriding any fear.

“ **Rodney**!”

He stills, except for his hands, clenching and unclenching them repeatedly.

“They’ll send help. They will. We just have to sit tight.”

Rodney exhales, closing his eyes. “Okay. Sit tight. Just sit tight …”

* * *

They won’t stop sinking.

The air, they realize when reading what little data they can still get out of the craft, won’t be a problem. The pressure however will be. And the cold, slowly seeping in and surrounding them.

They’ve brought some MREs and blankets and there’s a first-aid kit stored in the jumper as well, but they’d had never planned to be on the mainland for more than half a day or so and it’s not enough.

They never planned on being stranded. Never planned on sinking.

John wraps Marie in an extra blanket, checking that her temperature is normal, relieved that she’s stopped crying. It’s been an hour, and now the girl is pressed against his chest, cooing and making soft noises like nothing’s wrong, having recovered from shock. By some miraculous intervention he’s found no bruises on her skin, no wounds. But he doesn’t dare putting her down in case the jumper suddenly jolts.

Rodney can’t sit still for very long. He keeps fiddling with the control crystals. He’s gotten pods functioning before under dire circumstances. This shouldn’t take too long, John tells himself. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Then Rodney will have fixed it. Then Atlantis will have located them and they’ll be out of here. Just a moment longer.

It shouldn’t take too long.

(They always survive.)

* * *

“Anything?”

“I think I could raise the temperature a bit, but we’ll lose power.” _Lose time_ are the underlying words.

John glances at their daughter. She’s so small and delicate and he regrets bringing her, regrets going to the mainland, regrets being so fucking _stupid_.

“Do it.”

* * *

They’ve been sinking for four and a half hours.

At least Marie is so young that she eats nothing solid, so she won’t starve as long as he’s around to feed her. Unaware of the crisis, the girl is content, taking a nap after stilling her hunger, and as the girl rests John eats a powerbar on Rodney’s insistence.

The alpha is still working on the control crystals, refusing to let go. They’ve already tried a whole array of ideas. They can’t get their radios working due to the massive amounts of water surrounding them, and cannot boost the signal because the piece of equipment needed was in the now flooded forward section.

Despite the changes earlier made, the temperature still is dropping along with the craft.

“John, listen, if I can’t fix this – if they don’t get a rescue in time –”

“They _will_.”

_Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault._

* * *

He remembers his time in the Sanctuary, trapped inside the ridge. Then he had been able to see the sky. Now all is dark, enclosed, murky, the water pressing from all sides.

(If they die here – at least they’ll die together.)

* * *

He should never have come up with this stupid idea of a family outing. He should’ve shut up. He should’ve stayed in the city, camped on one of the balconies instead of the mainland –

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry –_

* * *

They’ve been sinking for seven hours when suddenly they come to a halt. The jumper rattles as it settles down on the bottom, a perch on the rocky seabed. Thousands of feet from the surface.

“At least we can’t get more lost now,” John says, but it does little to heighten the mood.

_Don’t make me say goodbye yet._

* * *

John and Rodney are huddled together under the control panel, keeping each other warm, the baby wrapped in three layers of cloth between them. Rodney has shed his jacked in a final desperate attempt to keep her warm and comfortable and secure.

He hopes it will be over quick. That the water will rush in like an explosion and it’ll be too fast for them to feel anything.

“It’s been too long,” Rodney whispers and John wants to shake his head _no, no, no, there’s still a chance, there’s still hope_ as they kiss, desperately, not voicing any farewells. “If they knew how to rescue us, they’d have done so.”

“We can’t give up, Rodney. We’ve stopped sinking – that’s bought time. The others’ll have figured something out. Quit being so damn pessimistic.”

He glances at the datapad. The numbers are screaming at them mutely, white and unforgiving. Less than an hour left of power. After that, they’ll be breathing shallow, the temperatures will quickly drop below zero and if the jumper miraculously survives the pressure they’ll freeze to death. Rodney doesn’t know which option is worse.

“If we get out, I swear not to call any Atlantis personnel _idiot_ ever again.”

John chuckles without mirth against Rodney’s shoulder, inhaling deeply the scent of his mate. “Even the newbies that arrived with the Daedalus last week?”

“Yeah. Them. And Miko and, and what’s-his-face. Even Zelenka. _Especially_ Zelenka.”

* * *

He’d do _anything_ to be on the surface and call his staff idiots and point out their miscalculations.

* * *

They’ve started taking in water, a slow trickle along the floor, and after half an hour it’s four inches deep and the leak is picking up speed, the temperature steadily dropping.

Something crackles in his ear then and it takes a moment to realize it’s not Rodney’s breaths, puffing against his chin.

_“ …ou can hear this, please respond. I repeat, this is Major Lorne, and if you can hear this, please come in. Colonel Sheppard, Dr McKay, do you copy?”_

His fingers are numbing away, and the reply isn’t entirely steady. “Major?”

_“Colonel! It’s good to hear your voice, sir.”_

“Good timing, Major.”

The voice grows a bit strained. Maybe Lorne can hear his chattering teeth. _“Zelenka and I are right outside your jumper, sir. We’ve extended a shield between it and us. You just have to open the hatch and step out. It’s perfectly safe.”_

Someone knocks on the jumper’s side like it was a door.

And John could’ve laughed if he wasn’t so exhausted and cold and hungry. But he smiles crookedly, and Rodney’s staring at him like he’s won a Nobel. They’re _alive_ and they’re going to keep living. They’re safe.

This kiss won’t be their last.

“See, what’d I tell you?”

“No more idiots,” Rodney answers dumbly, exhilarated and relieved.

* * *

It was Radek’s idea, they’re told, on the surface, when they’re being carried on stretchers toward the infirmary. But the Czech claims it was Lorne who mentioned converting the jumper's cloak into a shield. Unable to promote them both John asks them if they’d rather just be removed from the unofficial babysitting duty list so they won’t have to deal with screaming and changing diapers anytime within the foreseeable future, well, unless either of them decides to have a kid of their own.

To his surprise, Lorne just shakes his head as he walks beside the gurney; _It was duty, sir, to a loyal commander - it was duty, sir, anyone would’ve done it,_ _someone would’ve figured out sooner or later – it was duty, sir, to a_ _friend_.

* * *

“You were both dangerously close to hypothermia, but sharing body warmth certainly helped. It’s good neither of you hit your head in the crash.”

John has been in a state of unease and heartache all since they were brought back and the nurses took the child from his arms to examine her. “And Marie?”

“She’s fine and energetic. You managed to keep her warm by huddling around her, and she’s a very stubborn, hardy little girl. No doubt something she’s inherited from the both of you,” Carson says as he hooks the omega up to the IV. “Now, you two need to sleep. Don’t worry; we’re keeping a close eye on your daughter.”

Rodney sighs, smiling fondly, closing his eyes without fearing imminent death for the first time in thirteen hours. “That’s our girl.”


	4. Chapter 4

The images sent back from the MALP on M38-H9M are entirely unexpected, envisaging a tall tower, eerily similar to the main spire of Atlantis, casting a long shadow over the forest planet and the village sitting by the tower’s base.

John has not been off-world for seven weeks now and is slowly growing cranky. He’s trained in the gym and returned to all of his other duties for the past five, and he’s starting to itch, his whole body thrumming with anticipation – parenthood is both freeing and trapping, and he needs a change of pace.

The tower could give them clues, could perhaps provide them with weapons against the wraith – it could even house Ancients. It’s too great an opportunity to pass up.

John manages to convince Elizabeth to let his team go. It will be a quick mission: go down to the village, greet the locals, check out the tower and return within two hours. They’ll be armed, ready for conflict even if such hopefully won’t arouse. As they go, Marie is to be left under Carson’s watchful care, the doctor volunteering to babysit, so they need to have no worries.

And eventually she gives her consent, albeit Lorne’s team is to stand by, just in case.

* * *

Just in case they’re attacked by a rain of drones, captured, help prisoner and, oh, discover that there are no Ancients, but a group of people calling themselves royalty in charge of the tower, dressed like they’ve been picked right from the eighteenth century, complete with perfumed wigs.

But John figures he can reason with them, convince them to set them free. They want the ATA gene, to be able to keep the tower under their control and a simple gene therapy could guarantee that half the planet’s population will be able to wield the control chair and power the drones.

That is, until the king collapses by heart failure because of long-time poisoning, and the man seeking to replace him comes at John with a knife.

Where they’re being held back by the guards, Ronon and Teyla lash out, overwhelming the men and taking their weapons and Rodney rushes forward, shouting his name. But John manages to grab the attacker’s wrist and nimbly side-step and twist the weapon around. The cut is miniature, but one single drop of blood is enough.

Seconds later, the man falls, claimed by the poison he himself produced and everyone stares shocked at the body.

* * *

“He tried to _kill you_! Of course you need Carson to look at you –”

“I’m _fine_ , Rodney, the knife didn’t touch me.”

“ _Fine_?! ‘Fine’ in your book could mean you’ve been tortured and stabbed and shot and incinerated a dozen times over.” (“What the hell are you talking about, I’ve never been shot and stabbed and incinerated all at once –”) “It’s when you say ‘fine’ that we should be extra worried!”

Eventually Teyla arrives to help them agree on the matter, and John smirks in triumph but once they return to base Carson will check up on them all anyway so the victory is only slight.

* * *

The cleaning up takes a while. As they wait for the chaos to settle, Teyla speaks with the villagers and the royals in turn, and manage to come to an agreement. They’ll be given the ATA gene for their future protection from the Wraith, and in turn Atlantis gains a whole set of unused drones.

Elizabeth wants them to guarantee a future reign of democracy, but that’s more difficult, and no promises can be made.

* * *

Rodney still won’t let some things go. “They wanted to make you King.”

“Yeah. What can I say? I’m a popular guy.”

“If you’d agreed, we’d have a whole other city! Think about it! They’ve got a ZedPM, drones, who knows what else could be waiting to be discovered –”

The omega raises an eyebrow. “You _really_ want me to leave Atlantis to live on that backwater planet?”

And Rodney silences then, realizing what those people had tried to do, and he agrees that, yeah, it was for the better of them all that John declined.

* * *

They find the two pods in an undiscovered lab when they’re seeking salvageable material from the flooding that occurred a year ago during the great storm.

The two Ancients within are still and pale, side by side, unmoving until a message, a _plead_ is sent across – a chance for a final goodbye. And how can they refuse? It’s a chance to give two a last moment together, and a chance to speak with the Ancients, learn from them directly.

Only, they realize too late, the two aren’t long-time lovers or mates but enemies, their eyes gleaming as they attempt to destroy one another using the P90s they steal from the stunned marines.

* * *

John is sitting on the floor in the nursery entertaining Marie, building blocks (she especially likes it when the structures fall – Rodney blames it on the military streaks in her blood causing her to like destruction), while Rodney’s working on some calibrations in the lab, when Major Lorne’s voice suddenly reaches them over the city-wide comm.

Elizabeth and Caldwell have been taken over by two alien entities currently on the loose, and they’re firing at one another without hesitation, running haywire in the corridors, and no search teams have been able to find them.

John stands, thrusting Marie into Rodney’s arms ignoring his protests – “Are you _crazy_? They’re shooting at one another and you’re going out there?!” “Rodney, I _have_ to.” - and runs to the armoury, where he gears up. Instead of a P90 he takes a Wraith stunner.

If he doesn’t hurry, if he’s not there in time, they can lose both the leader of the expedition and the commander of the Daedalus in the same swift stroke. That cannot be allowed to happen.

* * *

Elizabeth, or rather Phoebus, is pressed against a wall by Thalan in the form of Caldwell when he finds them, clawing at each other’s throats.

Perhaps it’s the Ancients’ thoughts clashing with those of the owners of the bodies, or they’re just growing exhausted after five hours’ chase, but they aren’t pulling the triggers just yet and John rounds the corner, hesitating for a millisecond before stunning them both.

He taps his radio. “Major Lorne, this is Sheppard. I have the targets neutralized.”

_“Copy that, sir. We’re headed your way.”_

Now it’s just the matter of getting the Ancients out of their heads.

* * *

When the pair wake up in the infirmary, five hours later, things are a bit awkward.

John wonders if he’s just imagining it or if he really sees them look at one another in respect and uncharacteristically shy admiration and seeking forgiveness, different from how one commander usually looks at another. It’s not unheard of, two alphas feeling attraction, but he’s a bit surprised, because he hadn’t thought either of them would be willing to tie themselves to another, because that can be distracting, especially for a leader. But he wishes more people could let go of prejudices and old fears because he wants Elizabeth to find happiness too.

But no one comments or mentions anything and things soon return to normal – or what is passable as normal in Pegasus, anyway.

* * *

When Marie is a little over two months old, the Genii contacts them through their unstable not-quite-alliance, Ladon Radim claiming that their leader is false and traitorous and he needs their aid to overthrow him.

At seeing their green uniforms John can only remember Kolya holding a gun to Rodney’s head and Rodney’s bleeding arm and the storm whipping against Atlantis’ piers. He won’t ever forget and even if they’d been given the two atomic bombs to survive the siege, he’ll never trust the Genii and he’s pretty sure the Genii will never trust the Atlantis expedition either.

* * *

But first they find four burned bodies in a smoke-filled house on M1K-177. There’s nothing left to claim but the charred dog tags and sorrow and regret, and the premiere gate team return to the city with darkened faces.

* * *

John has seen how Lorne’s grown closer to one of the scientists; he knows the signs, has felt it in the long gazes and sensed the alpha’s scent flaring when the omega comes near. And while Rodney may be wholly oblivious to his own staff’s relationships, John hasn’t been away from Atlantis long enough to forget about those of his men that he trusts the most to guard his back.

Lorne is a private man – was. Was.

Another good man lost, uselessly, without purpose.

And it’s a pity that there are so many unwritten rules about _priorities_ because Lorne and Radek could’ve had a chance if they’d been encouraged to act (if there weren’t so many daily threats and unbecoming illusions).

* * *

Radek looks a bit like a ghost, muttering in Czech as he’s working on some numbers without meaning as John enters the lab. He doesn’t say much, because there are reports being written that easily can be accessed and Elizabeth is giving a city-wide account of how they’ve just lost one of their most prominent reconnaissance teams – there is nothing more needing to be known, nothing that could soothe him.

A message will have to be written or recorded and sent back to Earth, to Lorne’s family there – he has a sister, John recalls from the alpha’s file, that will need to know. But no partner there, nothing permanent. Radek is – was – his most permanent person, and John hands him one of the dog tags, the one not resting with the body, quietly  murmuring _I’m sorry._

“Evan was a good man.  _Byl mi drazí._ _Děkuju_ _ti._ ”

* * *

He _hates_ being gassed.

“There is no coup. Ladon has only the best interest of our people on mind,” is Cowen’s proud exclamation when John comes to, bound to a chair somewhere on M6R-867, surrounded by guards and separated from his team. John wishes his hands were free so he could wring someone’s neck.

And he wishes that he’d ordered Rodney to stay on base. If Rodney and the rest of the men haven’t escaped, which probably is the case – if Rodney isn’t safe, they could both be gotten rid of in one swift stroke and Marie will be left without parents - oh god, _Marie_.

* * *

One hour left until he’ll be shot in the head.

Over the radio, Elizabeth is cold and distant and stern but John knows she’ll do anything to get them out of here.

And when she offers a bargain, to heal the radiation-poisoned people sent through the gate, he sees something in Ladon’s expression shift.

* * *

If not for the gene, they’d all probably be dead already.

The realization of what this whole plot is about dawns when he’s dragged down to an underground cell, where his team is sprawled out – Rodney’s half-leaning against a wall, just coming to, and John can breathe now that he sees that his mate is whole – and there’s Lorne and his team as well, very much alive but without dog tags.

“You’ve come to rescue us, sir?” the Major asks, hopeful, and there’s an underlying question that John detects, the man stopping himself from letting it slip out; but John will make sure that word reaches Atlantis one way or another that they’re alive (for now).

“Now that I’m seeing you’re not burned to a crisp – yeah, I’m thinking about it.”

* * *

Rodney holds his head in his hands, groaning. “What the hell happened?”

“Apparently there is no coup, according to Cowen,” John says.

“I mean, why aren’t we, you know, _dead_?”

“We were gassed.”

“Oh, wonderful. Is any backup coming?”

“Don’t worry, Rodney, I’m sure Elizabeth’s working on it.”

* * *

The shield raises over the gate just a second before the nuke goes off, taking Cowen with it, but the shockwave still makes the floor of the gate room tremble ever so slightly.

John lets Elizabeth deal with the politics and pleasantries, and goes straight to the nursery, where one of the nurses who’d volunteered to babysit is waiting. The little girl is happily playing and not anxious at all and she doesn’t comprehend why John sweeps her up, peppering her with sweet nonsense and kisses, but reaches out and giggles anyway.

He’s making a bad habit of getting into trouble and being kidnapped and taken away from his girl for days at a time, but how can he help it that the universe is so screwed up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Czech – English translation** : _(I apologize for any errors.)_  
>  Byl mi drazí. Děkuju ti – He was dear to me. Thank you.


	5. Chapter 5

They’re in the nursery and Rodney is drawing algorithms with finger-paint as if Marie could read it. And, while having his doubts, John is amused by the alpha’s unusual patience – which still isn’t, well, that very big – as he tries having the little girl learning from the numbers.

“Rodney,” John drawls - the alpha always reacts interestingly whenever he overdoes that Californian accent, drawing out Rodney’s name just so - “she’s too young to understand a thing you’ve just said.”

“Our daughter’s going to be a genius like her dad so we’ve got to start nurturing it _early_. I’ll have you know learned my letters and my numbers incredibly fast.”

“Despite the amount of times you were dropped on your head?”

Rodney glowers, causing the omega to chuckle. “That happened just a couple of times - three at most!”

Then Elizabeth’s voice cuts through the radio plugged in John’s ear. “ _John, this is Weir. You and Rodney should come to my office. Carson has something he wishes to share.”_

* * *

“The retrovirus works?”

“We’re almost completely certain,” the Scot says and John doesn’t like where this conversation is going one bit, but Elizabeth looks intrigued and if it works, then they might have found a way to render the Wraith harmless, a way to save the galaxy. If it works. If it works.

There is only one way to know.

* * *

Lorne’s team ends up being the ones to bring back the _test subject_ , which it is so impersonally referred to and they’d prefer it to stay that way. But if it works, and the creature can be turned from Wraith to human, it will need to be given a _life_.

That is the greatest danger of this test. The greatest weakness. Because would they be any better than the Wraith if they started turning the creatures into humans just to more easily kill them? How human would _that_ be?

* * *

Ronon is stalking around the base with a thundercloud in his chest and dark glaring eyes and a hand constantly resting on his gun. Both John and Teyla have tried talking to him but the Satedan can’t make any promises not to shoot.

(If the Wraith so much as _twitches_ …)

Personally Rodney leans to agreeing with his line of thought. It’s stupid and risky and the problems they have to overcome are still huge. Even if it works, the non-Wraith will become aware of the location of Atlantis, an enormous risk in itself. If it works, if it’s permanent, then what should they do? Let it – _him_ – go into the general population of the base? Make up a story and make a shield of pretences? Forget about it and move on?

* * *

It could work.

It _has_ to work. Then they can eliminate the Wraith and free this galaxy.

Or it could all go to hell and they’ll all be _screwed._

* * *

Watching the transformation makes John’s guts twist. He feels a bit ill, but he steels himself.

It’s far too much of what had happened after the disaster with Ellia, so long ago, a time of which he recalls just vaguely. He still remembers the pain, though, and the fear and the anger and possessiveness. He still remembers his skin transforming into something inhuman. Watching this Wraith turn into the body of a man is too much like it, only like a recording playing backwards, and John walks away as soon as he can, making a plausible excuse to care for his daughter. Elizabeth just nods quietly and lets him go, while Carson stays with the patient below, patiently waiting for the torture to pass.

* * *

“So? Does it work?” Rodney asks when John enters the nursery, where the alpha tries balancing a girl on one knee and a laptop on the other a bit awkwardly.

The omega takes Marie from his grasp gently, knowing she’ll be hungry soon. “Probably.”

Fortunately Rodney hears the unease in his tone and takes the hint, and switches the subject to some puddlejumper modifications that should enable them to go faster and make their systems more effective (that is if Rodney can ever get the time to get it done, which isn’t, well, often nowadays) and John pretends not to know anything about the screams twelve levels down.

* * *

When the word reaches him that the subject has woken, pale and tied to a bed, Rodney doesn’t feel quite safe and he hates that John has to go in there, into the room with the Wraith-turned-human; but it is a necessary part of the illusion, introducing the leaders of the base so to gain the man’s trust.

* * *

Michael Kenmore has no memories of anything.

Except these little glitches of a Wraith’s face and a Wraith’s angry cry and a hand stretched out to feed.

_Nightmares,_ they keep telling him. _Only  bad dreams,_ they tell him _,_  hoping for it to work. For the memories to fade. But Carson has to give him the drug daily and they lose even more sleep as they realize they have no idea, no idea what to do, now that it’s worked but isn’t permanent enough. Elizabeth and John are caught up in debate and Ronon keeps being close to shooting – they have to make sure to escort Michael down other paths in the corridors – and Rodney counts the hours until everything goes utterly to hell.

Because things will. John knows what he’s thinking, of course, and even if he agrees it’s too late now. They have taken this course of action. They have to fulfil it.

(But to what ends?)

* * *

John has shown the not-quite-Lieutenant around the base, pretending not to notice the marines trailing them, their hands resting close to the triggers (just in case). Teyla has been helpful, because even if she strongly disagrees, she’s calm and she’s found a connection with Michael even though the lies. On some subconscious level, the man trusts her.

Michael feels so – false and _empty_. Like a canvas left forgotten. He could be beta, definitely not alpha or omega, but there’s his scent that’s off: _tainted_. There are remnants of something else, something alien. He’s not truly human.

And what if they cannot ever make him fully human? What then?

They’re already so far down this path; it’s too late to turn away. The tracks would be too difficult to completely cover.

* * *

When it comes down to it, it’s Elizabeth’s call, and John trusts her to make the right one and he will support her until the end.

* * *

Michael tries to settle in. Struggles to. The only kind of duty he has, really, is speaking with Heightmeyer, as if it would help change anything. Still, he has no memories, other than flashes that they keep claiming are fragmented dreams. Otherwise the marines escort him around the base, from the mess to his quarters. They’ve shown him, briefly, one of the labs, nothing important, and the gym and the mess, but not the gate room or the hangar bay.

They can’t allow him to escape that way if the worst happens.

Ronon won’t accept any of the man’s apologizes of things he cannot recall, and John _understands_ , because the Satedan has more reasons than most to hate the Wraith - he does, but punching people in the corridors doesn’t help things at all.

* * *

Then Michael sneaks outside the security cameras and finds the recordings and ends up frantic and horrified, staring at them with an expression so human and yet so alien – full of confusion, fear, _fury_.

* * *

Sometimes, John considers just turning off the radio so he could spend more than an hour uninterrupted with his daughter.

He sighs and taps his earpiece, while trying to hush the little girl who’s just woken up hungry again, picking her up from the cradle, manoeuvring her with expert ease. “Yes, what is it?”

_“Colonel, we have a situation. Kenmore has escaped.”_

* * *

They find him one dead body later, standing with a gun, pale and shaking still aiming at the fallen marine.

Maybe they should’ve listened to Ronon and Teyla from the beginning and not ignored the tug of _no-wrong-bad-idea_. Now it’s too late, though. Carson is tired and worn, blaming himself despite Elizabeth’s assurances that this was her call, this is her fault. They’ll find an answer to this mess. They’ll sort this out.

* * *

They try to sort it out.

* * *

“We should’ve killed it when we had the chance,” Ronon growls but it’s too late; Michael has gone with Teyla, randomly dialling some address that could be an uninhabited world or a thriving human population or a planet full of Wraith.

It’s the latter they realize when they find the address scrawled on a rock and manage to follow. John presses the trigger and sees the half-man, half-Wraith fall, but there are too many Wraith crawling down the hills to wait and find out if he's alive or dead, and they rush toward the gate making the narrowest of escapes.

When they return to Atlantis an hour later, Michael is far out of their grasp, with the knowledge of Atlantis’ existence ready to be handed out to every hive in the galaxy, and they can do little but wait and see and _hope_.

* * *

John replays the memory over and over, but there’s no way to know if any of the bullets struck true.

* * *

Rodney yells at him for being stupid and suicidal going to a planet full of Wraith without waiting for backup (“Ronon was there!”), then draws him into a tight embrace and kisses him fiercely and thanks him for bringing Teyla back whole and sound, making sure their team remains structurally intact, and John relaxes into his arms.

* * *

When he feels the signs of upcoming heat, John breaks down the walls and tells Rodney right away. Last time – the first time – had been so unexpected and sudden and they’d let instinct override all other thoughts. This time John makes sure they’ll have the time alone and takes precautions. He can’t have another child right now, the risks are too great, the dangers too many.

But still it's difficult not to lose himself in passion and desire, and all thoughts are quenched when Rodney touches him.

* * *

Atlantis is in a state of disarray, with Michael on the loose somewhere out there probably broadcasting his knowledge of the city. Everyone is on guard, every hour, every day, waiting for any signs of enemy ships to arrive in the sky and bear down on them. 

They wait.


	6. Chapter 6

There are few moments of calm in Pegasus. Some of them are shorter than others. This is such a time, when the ground begins to shake beneath their feet and the recon mission becomes something much more.

The Taranians are stubborn and unwilling to listen, unwilling to understand that their home is about to erupt and there are no safe distances to be reached on any side of the planet; they have to leave this place, go far, far away. On Atlantis they’ll find safety and food and shelter before relocation.

They only wish to help, but the Taranians won’t listen until the gate is swallowed by lava and they are trapped.

John is aware of people screaming in panic and Rodney rushing from each control panel to the next in the old compound, shaking his head and exclaiming _no-no-no this is wrong, this can’t be, oh my god we’re all about to die!_ over and over and over.

* * *

Poisonous smoke steadily spreads from the volcano and outwards, swallowing up each settlement. The Daedalus arrives to pick up one group of desperate refugees but it’s not enough, there isn’t enough time or room for everyone on board.

And that is when they find the Ancient warship hidden within the bowels of the old facility.

* * *

The ship lightens up and begins to hum, but in a distant damaged way, when they step inside it. Nevertheless the Taranian scientists following them around are in awe and envy, because they’ve been trying to get the craft repaired and operational for _years_ and now the Lanteans receive responses from it without even trying. John ignores them, locating the ship’s control room based on what he remembers of the layout of the Aurora.

 “Is there any way to get this thing operational? Rodney?”

“I’m working on it! Hang on.” Rodney scans the readings on a screen. “We’ve got … well, nothing, really, none of the secondary systems are responding as of yet but this is a ten thousand year old ship – if not older – that must’ve died centuries ago and without regular maintenance, who’s surprised? All right, all right. Let me see, shields - _maybe_. Sub-light engines … no. Definitely not. Communications, yes, that we got. Try hailing the Daedalus now.”

If they can get the ship working, they could save everyone, not just a handful. And John never leaves anyone behind.

This ship could save a civilization.

* * *

“ _That’s_ your plan? To wait for the whole thing to blow?”

“Exactly.”

“That plan _sucks_!”

“Wait with your judgement until _after_ I’ve saved the day, will you?”

* * *

The hyperspace jump is fractional, over in a second. The blasting heat fades into the shocking iciness of space in a moment, and they can no longer feel the vibrating roar of the violent eruption.

Rodney’s pale and his voice a bit high-pitched and he stares at the stars in astonishment. “It worked! We’re alive!”

And John doesn’t bring himself to care that they aren’t alone as he pulls the alpha into a heated kiss. “You’re a _genius,_ Rodney.”

* * *

But the rapture fades upon the return to Atlantis. The Orion, gifted to them by the Taranians as thanks for saving their lives, is barely operational and it provides no defence. All they have is the cloak for the city and the Daedalus in orbit, ready to assist, but even if just one single hive is headed for them at the moment there is guarantee that the rest of the Wraith aren’t aware.

They have less than three weeks to think of a plan.

(Less than three weeks to panic.)

* * *

They deliver the news to Earth in the next scheduled databurst the following day, but there are no ships for them to send.

Within the following week, more ammunition is given to them along with the supplies and a dozen new marines through the gate, but that will make little difference in the end, if the Wraith truly intend to attack (and there’s no reason to believe otherwise). They have no firepower to match a full-scale assault and this time they cannot trick them into believing Atlantis' self-destruct. Without a fully charged ZPM the shields will eventually fail and everything might end.

* * *

The rings under Rodney’s eyes are getting darker and John’s mood is growing fouler even as they try, they _try_ to feel like everything’s under control and doom is not coming.

They try to argue behind closed doors so not to wake Marie, the center of their discussions, but sometimes they slip up. _You’ve got to evacuate with the others, to save her_ , one of them says and the other loudly proclaims, sharply: _If I leave, Atlantis will be destroyed. If I leave and the Wraith truly attack, she’ll have no home._ And every time, it’s a draw, no decisions being made. They can’t find any proper rest.

* * *

Just in case, everyone is standing by ready for evacuation. The mainland has been cleared, the Athosians shipped onto the base so they too may hide under its invisibility cloak. Just in case.

The Orion makes laps around the planet as they work day and night to get the ship ready for battle, Radek and Lorne overlooking the repairs – but it’s a wonder she even flies. As the hours draw nearer they can just hope the hive is a ruse, merely on its way through the galaxy and that the Wraith are thinking that Lantea is uninhabited and abandoned.

_Let it be. Let it be. Let it be –_

(Just in case.)

* * *

John stills in the control chair as the voice carries over the radio, calm and vaguely familiar, looping as the inhabitants of the city hold their breath.

_“We know you are there. We mean you no harm. Please respond. We mean you know harm.”_

Startled and pale, Rodney stares at him, clenching to a datapad as the message repeats over their heads. “You don’t think …?”

No other Wraith would pause before wiping them out of existence.

* * *

An alliance with the Wraith could only be a bad idea.

But if they don’t comply, Michael’s hive will alert every other Wraith in the galaxy that Atlantis is still there, and if all the ships in the galaxy turned on them there’s no way they could survive.

So they comply and cross their fingers as Carson launches into completing the retrovirus as a weapon, ignoring all the mutters and the glares as Ronon paces again, hand on his gun. Teyla says that it’s fine, that she trusts this decision even if John can see that she doesn’t agree. And Rodney stops sleeping in favour of breaking the Wraith’s jamming codes so they can beam the gas or a nuke if they prefer onto any enemy ship in the future.

John misses him when Rodney soon overworks himself to the point he goes quiet when they share lunch – not in the mess, because the alpha doesn’t waver from his lab for a second – and there’s no time for them both to spend time with their daughter. Whenever he’s pulled from her side for yet another meeting and he has to organize last-minute babysitters because both Carson and Lorne (who are the number one volonteers on the list) are too busy with research and security, guilt and regret builds up in John’s throat. He wishes for this all to be over soon. Hopes for it to work.

(If it works, the Wraith could destroy each other. If it works. _If it works._ )

* * *

The marines are on high alert, everyone tense at the presence of Wraith on the base, everyone hushed, eyes flickering, _is this really a good idea?_

It is the _only_ idea.

* * *

“… and it’s all very complicated, which is why I have to be on the hive ship to monitor the test.”

Long before the meeting they’ve had this discussion in their quarters, just the two of them, but John still feels uneasy at the thought of Rodney among all those Wraith, terribly vulnerable even if he carries an emergency transmitter to beam him out of there in case all goes downhill. If - ( _Everything'll be fine, I have backup plan, I'll be safe,_ the alpha had assured him, again and again during the previous night, _I'll be all right, I have to do this_.)

After a moment of hesitation, Elizabeth gives him a go. It’s a huge risk, but they need this to work.

* * *

Then the hive meant to be their ally opens up fire on them.

John stumbles against a console as Caldwell orders the return of fire, pulling himself up as the whole craft trembles, alarms blearing, the shield quickly fading in strength under the strain. Surrounded by the two enemy vessels, they’ve got nowhere to go, and John refuses to leave anyhow.

Rodney and Ronon are aboard that ship. They can’t abandon them. They never leave people behind.

“Ready a warhead for beaming onto the nearest hive,” Caldwell orders, and John’s blood goes both hot and cold with anger and fear and a thousand emotions he can’t name. Rodney can’t be killed by one of their own nukes, delivered via a program that the alpha himself has cracked – he can’t allow it. He can never allow it.

All patience and formalities are thrown out the window. “Rodney and Ronon are still on that ship. Give them a minute to beam aboard!”

“They’ll have their chance as soon as we’re within range, but if they can’t activate their transmitters by then there’s nothing we can do for them.” Caldwell glances over his shoulder at him, meaninglessly, as John’s heart thunders. “I’m sorry, Colonel.”

And Caldwell might be sorry, he might understand that he’ll effectively sever the bond between two mates and end a future, but John’s chest burns and he cannot accept, can _never_ accept this end.

* * *

Right before they’re cornered and stunned, Rodney cries out for them to activate their transmitters but nothing happens. The jamming codes are non-functioning and Ronon collapses beside him, unmoving, the Wraith closing in.

The next moment, darkness overcomes him, a cold void, and he blindly reaches out for a final thought (grasping none).


	7. Chapter 7

If this goes on for much longer the Daedalus will be torn into nothing but debris floating in the nothingness of space. As a last desperate attempt, they launch the F-302s which could at least knock out the hives’ hyperdrives or weapons, but darts are quickly leaving the enemy bay, intercepting them, and a handful of fighters are no match against a hundred fighters.

John acts and reacts and tries not to think more than necessary, to keep his head cool, his pulse steady as adrenaline rushes through his veins and gives him strength.

And then he has this crazy idea that might probably not work but he’s got to try, because Rodney’s aboard that ship and he’ll never leave him behind.

He manages to latch onto the hull mere seconds before the hyperspace window opens, but never manages to get a message across the radio to tell anyone about the Daedalus about this daredevil manoeuvre. He just hopes that they’ll be able to track the hives and follow and stop them before more people are killed.

* * *

When he comes to, Rodney finds himself ensnared, unable to move, unnatural warmth creeping around his bones. It feels like his lungs are slowly being crushed, his breaths speeding up, trembling.

They’re trapped. On the Wraith ship. Surrounded by life-sucking aliens. On their way – where? To Atlantis? To some other planet they wish to cull? To –

“Oh god. Oh my god. Oh my god,” Rodney babbles despite nobody’s around to hear except Ronon, who glares at him darkly. Whereas the scientist is frozen, glued to the cocoon, the Satedan is struggling intractably.

“We’re heading for Earth! That’s the only reason why they’d break the alliance. They must’ve, must’ve taken data from our database along with the hive ship plans! Why didn’t I see that before? Oh, it’s so _stupid_. Trusting them coming in contact with our systems, with the database. Just like that spyware I got for my stupidly downloaded porn – music, my stupidly downloaded music,” he corrects himself even if Ronon probably doesn’t know Earth terms that well or frankly doesn’t care. “ _I_ did this. I let this happen! I’m going to be responsible for the destruction of _my_ _own_ _planet_!”

“If anyone’d do it, it’d be you,” Ronon mutters, still refusing to stop moving, to stop trying to get free but Rodney’s pretty sure these things are struggle proof.

“Oh thank you _, thank you_ so much for encouraging that input, Conan!”

* * *

 An hour into the journey, John tries hailing Rodney and Ronon over the radio.

Maybe it’s something with hyperspace travel or the hive is jamming communications or their radios have been taken from them, but he gets no response, and he doesn’t risk a second trial in case the Wraith manage to detect him.

* * *

He’s been stuck in this cockpit for eight hours and his legs have begun to cramp. He’s never been good at sitting still for this long. He’s conserved all the power consumption he can in order to keep life-support running for as long as possible but nothing changes the fact that he’s only got another seven hours of air left. If the ships haven’t dropped out of hyperspace by then so that he may sneak aboard, somehow (he’s still working on that), then he’ll suffocate.

The loneliness of being trapped in the ship without being able to fly anywhere is disconcerting, and John tries to rest for a bit, so that his head’s clear when it’s time to act, but finds it hard to close his eyes. All he can see beneath his eyelids is Rodney’s panicked pale face and his daughter screaming and Atlantis sinking under heavy fire, and the nightmares linger even as he continues to stare at the fighter’s controls, trying to find a distraction as he counts the minutes.

* * *

Rodney isn’t sure which is worst - seeing the Wraith reaching Earth and tearing his home planet apart or dying as a meal or the fact itself that he’ll never seeing John and their daughter ever again.

* * *

John blankly stares at the streaks of the grey and blue which makes up the subspace they’re traveling through.

Are they heading toward Atlantis?

For some reason, the assumption doesn’t feel right. Lantea isn’t that far away via hyperspace, and it’s been too long for such a journey, even with the Wraith’s less sufficient technology –

And then it strikes him. The ships are organic. What was it Rodney said? It was so many months ago, one among a hundred quickly babbled words as the alpha had speculated about something in the mess with Radek and John had listened only with half an ear at the time, too busy trying to feed a stubborn baby at the time.

If the ships are organic, they would need to make stops because of radiation damage that non-organic ships, like the Daedalus, wouldn’t need to. Yeah. And while Wraith ships aren’t that fast, they should’ve reached Atlantis by now if that was their destination.

So then –

 _Fuck_.

* * *

After fifteen hours, when he’s hungry and tired and the adrenaline’s worn off long ago, he’s abruptly startled out of his loophole thoughts as the hives drop out of hyperspace. There are no planets or stars nearby, and he wonders how close to the edge of the Pegasus galaxy they are.

“Okay, time to do some damage.”

He won’t let these bastards reach Earth.

* * *

Then Ronon cuts himself free and Rodney can’t comprehend why the man hasn’t said a word about it until now.

The Satedan looms above him, in a way more terrifying than any Wraith, pausing before he raises his knife to the cocoon holding the scientist prisoner. “I cut you free, but you’ll quit the ‘there’s no hope’ talk. Deal?”

“But, now there _is_ hope,” Rodney says albeit with extreme uncertainly, because even if they get free they’re still stuck on a hive ship probably in hyperspace without anywhere to go, without an escape route, without _anything_ to –

“You’ll think of something,” Ronon says then, insistent, silencing any of Rodney’s protests to that crazy statement because how the hell is he going to think a way off a spaceship that doesn’t have any escape pods and even if they took a dart and flew out of here, they’d probably be stuck in the void between two _galaxies_ without a gate within lightyears and did he mention that they’re all probably to die a horrible, horrible death at the Wraiths’ hands –

“You’ll think of something!”

* * *

“… Rodney, Ronon, please come in. I know this is a long shot but if you can hear me, please respond.”

_“Colonel Sheppard, is that you?”_

The voice responding him on the radio is definitely not one he wishes to hear. And John really doesn’t want to trust the guy but he has little other choice, because in less than three hours he’ll suffocate, unless the Wraith detect him and take him out first.

If he doesn’t act now, any chance of saving Rodney and Ronon will be lost.

* * *

Only, after disabling the first hive’s hyperdrive – hopefully stalling them so the Daedalus can arrive and stop them – none of Michael’s aid seems to be arriving, and then the darts are chasing him and Michael can’t stop the attack because none of the Wraith will listen to him and John rants a million curses in his head.

When the F-302 suddenly jerks and twists violently as its left wing is ripped from its hull, the initial dampeners helps very little and John cries out, the world spinning and darkening.

* * *

“I suppose I’d rather die as a hero than as a meal,” Rodney begrudgingly admits as Ronon drags him through the ship in search for the nearest control center where he can cause as much damage as possible.

* * *

By the time he reaches one, though, the craft is shaking by the onslaught of gunfire and Asgard weaponry and a shrill alarm is echoing through the misty hallways.

There’s a chance for survival.

There’s a chance –

* * *

Abruptly Ronon aims his knife at the shadows rounding the corner but it’s not two anonymous Wraith.

“ _John_?! What the – how the _hell_ did you -?!”

And Rodney’s torn between relief and anger and confusion all at once at seeing John there, very much alive and whole, but _how did he even get here?_

“Long story short, I latched onto the hull with my 302 and hitched a ride. Saw it in a movie once.”

Even Ronon looks impressed, but the Satedan won’t lower his knife fully because Michael’s there; and Ronon will never trust him even as the half-Wraith hands them back their stolen weapons and radios and might even have helped in saving John’s life.

“Come on,” the omega says impatiently, “the Daedalus is here and we’ve got to get off this hive before it’s vaporized.”

A light appears in Rodney’s eyes. “The Daedalus is here?”

Their chances of survival just went back up above zero, and even if it’s just by a fraction, Rodney suddenly manages to think in much more stable lines.

* * *

It takes a moment to convince Caldwell that they’re alive and not compromised, but the man sounds relieved as well as concerned.

Apparently in the hours after losing sight of his transmission as he latched onto the hive and jumped into hyperspace, the Daedalus has managed to get to Atlantis and back, delivering only bad news. Word is already headed for the SGC that John Sheppard is reported MIA, and that Rodney McKay and Ronon Dex are most probably dead.

It’ll be nice to prove them all wrong.

* * *

The Orion has come to join the attack, but after launching a first set of drones, it quickly loses shields and major power capabilities. By the time John finds himself beamed aboard the Daedalus alongside Rodney and Ronon and, against all odds, Michael, the crew of the ancient vessel has to abandon ship. Major Lorne is worked up and frustrated, saying _I’m sorry but we tried, sir, we tried,_ but there’s little they can do now. Caldwell remains steady and firm, but his brow is creased in a deep frown. If they find no way to take out the second hive soon, the Earth vessel will quickly join the fate of its Ancient counterpart.

At least they’ve managed to destroy _one_ enemy ship.

* * *

Eventually, both ships are so drained and damaged that the Wraith stop firing and the Daedalus, albeit leaking oxygen and power, has lost none of its resolution. They cannot turn back home, because the hyperdrive is offline and repairs will take hours. Hours they do not hive, because they have no life-support and they’re stuck in the intergalactic void, far too far from any Stargates to seek rescue.

There’s no one but them and the enemy, warily waiting for the other to make the next move.

* * *

No pockets of air are available to extract a few more minutes of survival and the crew is far too large for them to even have a remote chance of buddy-breathing their way out of this one.

Naturally Rodney claims one of the twenty breathing gears available and only the technicians and scientists working on repairs are meant to have those, so some of the crew are rotated in and out of the F-302s, taking shallow breaths. There’s little else to do. John feels restless and out of his element. He’s never been a fan of waiting to die.

When Rodney offers or rather insists on sharing the precious oxygen he’s carrying around on his back John is as his mate not allowed to refuse; and he’s grateful, even if the alpha simultaneously makes edgy snide remarks and mutters nervously that _This can’t be the end, I haven’t even won my first Nobel yet._

* * *

Eight hours away from imminent death, Rodney gives them a status report which is startlingly short in its simplicity: _Yeah, frankly we’re screwed, but – I have an idea._

* * *

“The only air within lightyears is on that hive ship.”

“That ship is also full of _Wraith_ , doctor,” Caldwell says sceptically.

“Then beam an assault team in, now that Michael’s disabled their jamming code. We could take them out,” John puts in.  “Sir, we’ve got to try. What’ve we got to lose?”

“You would be far outnumbered,” Michael says, a cold factual statement. If the half-Wraith hadn’t helped saving their lives he’d have been put in the brig hours ago, but as of yet Michael hasn’t tried to kill any of them, claiming to have been deceived as well. “You would stand no hope of overtaking the hive,” the hybrid goes on, pausing for a moment to look directly into their eyes, meeting Caldwell’s resolution without fear. “Unless you send over the gas.”

* * *

Once the whole ship has become human everyone aboard the Daedalus have nearly suffocated and John is a bit dizzy as he draws himself to his feet alongside the team of marines, ready to beam over and inspect the hive.

“The gas has barely had time to take effect,” Caldwell wheezes but it’s now or never. Another hour and they’ll all be dead.

John clips his P90 onto his vest and nods an affirmative to Rodney, whose breathing gear has run out of oxygen, and the alpha grins back weakly.

* * *

The hive is free of Wraith and full of air, and he takes his first deep breath for hours.

They’ve survived.

* * *

And another dilemma rises to the horizon.

They have two hundred prisoners frozen in hibernating chambers as they arrive to Atlantis. Short of killing them, they have no idea what to do with them. Because now they’re human – except for the Queen, who nearly strangled Lorne to death and they shot her just in time. But other than that, the no-longer-Wraith have offered no resistance, only confusion and even _fear_ and absolutely no memory.

Killing them now wouldn’t be the same.

It’s a trip that the hive ship barely manages to survive. The dart bay is completely vented and the hyperdrive will probably soon begin leaking, and none of them have eaten for forty-eight hours or slept well, but they’re _alive_ , and as Lantea draws ever closer anticipation thrums in John’s chest.

* * *

“I’m taking tomorrow off,” Rodney announces once they manage to convince Carson not to launch a drone attack and blow them out of the sky.

“All right. Want to play golf?”

The alpha looks at him incredulously. “Why’d I waste time on such a useless pastime when I could make a genius breakthrough by actually studying in my lab uninterrupted?”

John nearly, almost pouts.

“Though,” the scientist goes on, thoughtful, “some mate-on-mate time would be nice. Some time when we’re not hunted or threatened or shot at or, you know, in constant lethal danger – well we are but not that bad now that we’ve defeated those two hives and hopefully no one else is headed toward Atlantis to attack. And now you can drink beer.”

“Rodney, is this your roundabout way of asking me out on a date?” John raises his eyebrows.

“Uh, I, I mean, we, we’re already mated so the technicalities aren’t- Oh, shut up and stop smirking!”

A chuckle fades in his throat as he offers Rodney a peck on the chin, the alpha stuttering in embarrassment and indignation. In the background, Lorne is hiding a smirk of his own.

“So, east pier at eighteen hundred hours?”


End file.
